


After all

by Cfae8



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Minor Violence, No Romance, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-09 21:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11677854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cfae8/pseuds/Cfae8
Summary: In the Orphan Brigade Fake AH au, what happens the next time Ryan's parents find evidence of him being the vagabond? They may be oblivious to his life, but he still lives in their home and nothing stays in the dark forever.





	After all

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kellisina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellisina/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Orphan Brigade](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9420128) by [Kellisina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellisina/pseuds/Kellisina). 



> this is really just a gift for kellisina, hope you like it!

It wasn’t long after joining Geoff and the crew that Ryan became the very best in the hacking world of Los Santos. He could hack into anything, even government level security networks— something that did the crew good whenever one of the Lads got in altercations outside of school with other students. But it also wasn’t long before the rest of the crew realized that his real talent was on heists. 

On his first true heist he was so nervous he almost didn’t go, he was used to breaking the law, but typically it was from behind a computer screen. He’d hack security and the crew would do the dirty work. On his first heist he was unsteady with his gun and he was reluctant to shoot anyone, even the bank tellers hand when she was going for the panic button. Michael wound up shooting out her leg so she fell to stop her from hitting it.

4 months later, it went completely different.

The crew was robbing a small time convenience store, mainly so the Lads could get practice with small time heist, growing their confidence working on efficiency. For the first minute, it went smoothly, until the man behind the counter was told to get the lotto money, and pulled a gun from under the cash register instead, aiming it straight and level at Michael’s Chest. Never having had a gun on him point blank, the eldest Lad was too stunned to move Gavin was too scared for his brother to react, Ray didn’t have an angle on him from across the street and was cursing into the COM, Jack was helpless from the getaway car, and Geoff didn’t have time to turn from the customers on the ground. So when the shot finally went off, after an eternity lasting less then a second, all eyes went wide with shock as the clerk fell to the ground with a small circle of blood pooling between the man’s eyes. A second later and all wide eyes turned to Ryan, expression unreadable behind the mask, and his gun still aimed at the space the clerk had once occupied, steady.

They made it out of that convenience store without another hitch, and before the cops made it there, only having been alerted to the crime by the gunshot. Once they were back in the penthouse and safe, everyone went off to do their own thing: Gavin staying near Michael, needing reassurance his brother was alive; Ray to get a little stoned and play on his DS; Geoff to have a drink, needing one after almost loosing one of his boys on a job as simple as that; and Jack to take inventory of the money, guns, and bullets. Usually, Ryan would take off his mask within minutes of being home, going to create internet alibis for himself in case he was seen. This time he didn’t, instead opting to stay in the common room and kitchen, in sight of the front door, and only separated from the rest of the crew by a single door at most. He didn’t even realize he was thinking like that.

Jack was the first to notice the mask still adorning Ryan’s head. Although he was slightly put off by it, he left well enough alone and decided to give the boy some space. Geoff was the next to notice, but it wasn’t for half an hour after Jack. He simply walked back to his office and poured another glass of whiskey to think. There wasn’t much celebration despite the success. With Michael having his first experience with looking down the barrel of a gun he wasn’t in that great a mood, and for the first time the crew was scared of Ryan’s mask. Of course it wasn’t truly the mask that scared them all, it was that Ryan seemed to not realize he was still wearing it, like it was something completely normal to him as he went about the evening, completely silent.

Ray wasn’t the last to notice, but he was the first to decide to say something.

“Hey Rye-Bread” Ray said softly, walking onto the balcony were Ryan now sat above, staring at Los Santos from were the roof hung over the balcony just enough to climb up to. Ray continued, “You wanna come in and hang? Everyone’s kinda dicking around by themselves. I mean we did get home three hours ago you’d think everyone would at least be trying to beat my gamerscore”. The joke was there, for Ryan to do what he pleased with, simple banter was second nature to them.  
“Sure”. The reply was short and simple, but it made Ray shiver. Ryan never acted this cold to him, especially not after the then twelve year old became his permanent face-painting helper. Ryan hopped down from the overhang with ease, lifting himself with one hand and swinging his body weight towards the balcony. With a strange disassociation he realized all that time Jack had made the boys spend in the gym was starting to show in the way he moved.

The two boys went in, grabbing food and soda from the fridge before heading to Ryan’s room.  
“You know your mask is still on, right?” Ray had meant to say it as a joke, but it had faded to concern halfway through. The question caught Ryan off guard, because he hadn’t realized the mask was still on. The air was still as he slowly took it off, and Ray could honestly say it was the first time he’d been scared by his own design on Ryan’s face. Smudged from sweat on the inside of the mask and messy from the short notice heist, Ryan looked as terrifying to Ray as he typically looked to the people caught in their heists.

That night they sat and talked, but never about what happened in the store.

The next time they went on a heist, Ryan was on the ground, going in with Geoff, Gavin, and Michael again.

He had started wearing the mask a while before the incident with the clerk so that no one would know who he was, but that night was the first time he had been different behind the mask.

With the mask on he was no longer Ryan Haywood trying to hide his identity, he was the Vagabond, dangerous Gent of the Fake AH Crew. While it seemed ridiculous that adorning a mask could change someone so much, none of the crew would deny it.

On this next heist, there were no nerves, there was no hesitancy, and there was no mercy. If there was anyone threatening his crew, it meant instant death for the offender. Civilian heroes, Civilian casualties, and even cops were all treated in the same regard. If they were in the way, they could be removed. No one was safe, everyone was liable to become just another piece of collateral damage in the larger puzzles of Fake AH heists. As Ryan became more efficient, stories of the Vagabond had time to fester.

Within the next 6 months, the rumors of the Vagabond had grown till they were larger then life, and even larger when Ray turned 14 and Ryan started to teach him how to use a sniper riffle properly. The kid was a natural, already having the gift of marksmanship and quickly mastering his own weapon. With Ray on a nearby rooftop it would always look as if only Ryan was on a job, and that was one advantage that they wouldn’t trade for the world. The Fake Ah Crew had been respected almost as long as it had been around, even when it was only Geoff and Jack and their network of contacts. Now with rumors of the Vagabond in the mix, they were feared. Gangs feared the unpredictable Lads acting under the Gents. Gang leaders feared the Vagabond, unstoppable with his sniper backup. The crew gained power and prestige, and with that they worked their way nearly to the top. So when rumors of what happened to rebels and traitors inside the safe houses and interrogation rooms of the Fake Ah Crew eventually made it to the streets, they climbed the last rung on the ladder. Every citizen of Los Santos feared the Fake AH Crew, and every criminal in the state feared the Vagabond.

Yet between the mask and the face paint, Ryan continued to remain anonymous.  
Who would suspect a high school student to be the Vagabond?

The crew was never really the same after the night Ryan first killed a man. With the mask on Ryan was cold and calculating, ready for a heist; but without the mask he was his same old self, almost. So despite the change the crew kept on keeping on. They were family, after all.  
. . .

While the Vagabond was the most feared criminal on the street, without the mask he was simply Ryan Haywood: the kid who was secretly really good with computers (not that he would ever really tell someone outside the crew exactly how good he was). He had slightly above average grades, slightly above average looks, and a very normal family. Well, the family that everyone knew about that is. The crew is nothing close to normal.

That said, his family in his actual home was only normal at first glance. His parents were pretty out of it when it came to their son. They new nothing of his affinity and skill with computers, and with only a single question had figured that all the time he spent outside of the house was hanging out with friends or babysitting. Not to mention, they didn’t notice that every now and then some new piece of clothing or new piece of tech would show up in Ryan’s room, and so it wouldn’t be questioned.

That was just how it was at Ryan’s house, until the slip up with his mask.

The first time he left his skull mask out he played it off as cosplay for a school project. He swore to himself he’d be more careful.

. . . 

Ryan was in college, long past the age of parental supervision even being pretended, yet he was about to walk out the door of his house when his parents stopped him.

“Where’re you going Ryan?” His father had asked him calmly, sounding curious.  
Quickly, as he had planned responses for each day of the week, Ryan responded, “Watching Michael and those boys, I’ll be back by eleven, and my homework will be done don’t worry”.  
“So there’s just books in that bag of yours?” this time it was his mother who asked, calm as his father had but also impatient.

The question caught Ryan off guard, there were school books in his bag, but it was mostly chemistry and bio, for teaching the boys about explosives and torture, the pages were even bookmarked with sticky notes. His parents would likely overlook that, but last night he had snuck out for a late night heist with Ray to work on the boy’s sniping in high-pressure situations without getting high first. He was wearing his jacket, but his mask and his face paint were in the bag, along with a pistol and two knives. Not to mention the money he made last night on the side by grabbing the diamond earrings off some casualty, and the Glock and hunting knife inside his jacket, or the Motorcycle keys and lock pick.

One beat.  
Two.

“Yea what else would be in the bag?”

He hesitated for too long.

“So you don’t care if we look inside it?” his father again

“Why?”  
Too quick. Too cold. He had began slipping on his vagabond persona, but he couldn’t around his parents. He let it drop.

“Because we’re your parents and we’d like to know what you’re doing” his mother was getting impatient now, and with that one sentence he was pissed.

And he slipped.  
Now he was the Ryan he was around the crew, it was too easy to let go.

“Not like you ever gave a fuck before—“ he was being honest, but he realized his mistake too late. This was the wrong family for honesty.

“Giving you your privacy is not because we don’t care Ryan”. Of course his father would be the first to reject swallowing their pride.

“Yea well not even checking my grades seems a bit more like negligence than giving me space in my eyes. What if I hadn’t been accepted to college and didn’t care about it? Never applied for that scholarship that’s keeping me going for free? You’d be pissed then but you never even looked to see if I could get in!”

“We are just trying to give you room to grow and learn without us staring down your back constantly! If you do well in school we want it to be because you wanted to do well. If you find something you wanna do we want it to be your passion, not something you thought would please us.” Again his father was trying to defend himself and Ryan’s mother. Typical.

He was turning it against them and it seemed to be working. Until it wasn’t.

“Ryan” his mother started carefully, “some of your clothes are coming out of the wash with bloodstains on them. Between the small bandages and the scars you’re starting to look like you get in knife fights everyday. There’s nights when you don’t come home till after midnight, or at all. The sink in your bathroom was red this morning. The worst part was I couldn’t tell if it was blood, or that face paint that you left on your dresser! By god when your hair is in that ponytail and you’re wearing that jacket of yours, I can’t help but think the worst! Where’d you even get it? Cause the only other person I’ve ever seen with a jacket like that–”

“I bought it at a garage sale mom” Ryan scoffed and answered, cutting off his mother trying to act as if his parents are being ridiculous. Trying to buy time to think.

“And everything else?”

It took a second, but he was fast enough. He already had the lies in place after all.

“When me and the boys in my tech class have time for lunch together we play around with fake blood, we’re trying to make a compound that looks and behaves more like real blood for the one guys girlfriend in film class. The scars are from when I babysit the boys and we go up to the mountains to get out of the city, we take the bus then we go hiking. The trails are full of lose sticks and prickers that scratch you, a few of them are from a few slips on loose rock. The nights I don’t come home are cause I pass out there on late nights, or I can’t get home cause I don’t have a ride and it’s to late to take a bus. Taxi fair gets expensive coming out here and the boys’ parents don’t have a car, so they don’t mind me sleeping in the spare room. When I’m late it’s cause my ride is late. I’ve told you this.” He acted annoyed, like his parents were still being ridiculous.

As much as he tries to keep the blood off his clothes, he can’t stop it from getting on his jeans, and sometimes it gets to his shirt. The scars are from heists, but also largely from self-defense training with Geoff, who’s not afraid to hurt the boy knowing it will keep him safe in the future. He tries to hide them best he can, but he can’t always cover them. The rare times he doesn’t come home are because part of the time Geoff and Jack need him to babysit at night every now and then; but most the time, it was because no matter how much pain some idiot’s second in command was in, it took all night to get the info they needed out of him. Those were the days the vagabond showed through Ryan into his life back home.

“So you wouldn’t mind showing us the bag?”

Ryan scoffed once again and walked to the door.

“Get your ass back here Ryan”

He hadn’t heard his father curse at him in years

“I gotta get to work and I’m late as is” Ryan said slowly, trying to just get out of the house. If he could make it to the safe house Geoff bought in his neighborhood where Ryan keeps his bikes, he would be free for now.

“You’re not going anywhere unless we say you can Ryan! How the hell do you even get to this job of yours? You don’t have a license, and you’ve said these kids live on the other side of the city. That’s a 20 minute drive don’t try and say you walk.”

“I hitch a ride with Billy, his job is in that part of town and he lets me bum a ride till we turn opposite directions. Its only a five minute walk from there.” The lie slipped off his tongue with ease; he wasn’t even shocked by it anymore.

“Billy just got arrested Ryan. He was caught robbing some car.”

He had known, he didn’t think his parents would have cared enough to check out his ‘no-good’ friend.

He shrugged, faking a sort of ignorance-based apology.  
“I didn’t know”

“Bullshit Ryan!”

His father threw the tee shirt he was holding to the ground. Ryan hadn’t noticed it before his father had done that, but he saw it was a light blue shirt spotted with crimson stains. 

His face went blank. It was the shirt he had been wearing when someone stupid assassin had taken the job to take out the lads. He hadn’t been able to get the bloodstains out, and so he kept it hidden in his bottom drawer as a reminder of how far his little family would go for each other, of every ounce of loyalty he held for Geoff and Jack and of how fiercely protective he would always be of the lads, even as they grew up. And, a reminder of how easy it was to kill a man without thought; to pull his knife across a throat with barely any effort. He didn’t take pleasure in killing, but he had no qualms about it. It had been all to easy to train himself to only show the emotions he wanted others to see, or else none at all. He had no response to the shirt. None he could give, at least, so he didn’t.

“Ryan this isn’t fake blood…” His mothers voice was gentle, almost hurt. “Where did we go wrong sweetie…”

He didn’t know what to say.

He shook his head, no lies or acts forming in his mind quick enough to defend it.  
“Just leave it ma”

So he walked out, and his father followed.

“Damn it Ryan get back in here!”

Soon as he was out the door he ran down the street, easily getting far ahead of his dad, but not loosing him on the straight streets of his neighborhood. Loosing the cops in the crowded city was easier than loosing his dad in an empty neighborhood.

He ran to the safehouse a few blocks a way, and was thankful for the heist the night before, because his bike was in the backyard where he left it. Running behind the neighboring house to the safe house, he lost his dad by jumping the picket fence. As he threw on his helmet and started the motorcycle, his dad ran back to the street. When Ryan sped past him on the bike, he only spared him a passing glance. Wearing his pitch-black helmet on and having his jacket zipped up, he knew there was no hiding this now, because here was no doubt in his mind about the look on his fathers face, because that’s how most civilians looked after seeing the Vagabond

. . .

Geoff sighed and rubbed his temples, pacing the room.

“I’m sorry Geoff, I didn’t realize they were getting curious, I should’ve paid more attention, or hell, just listened and moved here when I turned 18, this is my fault…”

“No, no, it’s alright, if they suddenly got snoopy there’s nothing you can do, the question becomes how am I gonna deal with this? If it was anyone else we could just dump their bodies in a landfill, but that’s out of the question with this.”

Geoff walked to the kitchen, procuring a glass and a bottle of Jack Daniels. Pouring the amber liquid, he started talking again.

“Listen, I know you’ve never been that close to your parents, and that they’re not exactly great parents, but d'ya think there’s any chance they’ll call the cops and have you arrested?”

Ryan though for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t know”.

The crew boss sipped the drink, emptying half of it, then continued slowly pacing.

“Well that makes life more difficult…”

Jack walked over and placed a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “I doubt they’d turn their only son into the cops without talking to him first, we’ve got a day or two to figure something out. In the meantime you can sleep here long as you need to, you know that.”

Ryan nodded, “Yea, thanks Jack”

“You’re part of the crew Ryan, that means you’re part of the family.”

With another nod, Ryan walked out to the balcony to think.

Jack took a breath after the sliding door closed, “I’m worried about him, what he’ll do.”

Geoff finished his glass  
“Me too jack…”  
. . .

Like the night Ryan first killed, Ray was the first to go talk to him.

In typical Ray fashion, talking to someone meant generally invading their space and playing on his ds for an hour before anything was said. He kept it casual, speaking up as he battled in his old copy of Pokémon Diamond.

“Hey, Rye-Bread.”

Ryan nearly jumped at the noise, but he knew the voice too well, so he put on a smile.

“Hey X-Ray.”

Ray closed his DS and hopped up to the ledge where Ryan sat. Even the scrawniest of them was strong enough to manipulate his own body; Jack’s training had done its job.  
Ray looked out over the city, pulling out a lighter and fiddling with it while he spoke. “What’s going on with your parents?” 

“You know why I wear the mask, Ray? And have you help me with face paint all the time?”

“No, you know I’ve just been meaning to ask.” Ray’s voice dripped with sarcasm, enough to make Ryan laugh softly, slightly embarrassed now that he realized how obvious his question was. Ray continued before he could interrupt. “Course I know, I’m 15 not stupid. It’s to scare off the heat and make sure Rival crews can’t find you at home or in school. It keeps your identity and your personal life a secret.” He laughed, “You’re a mystery, through and through, uncontrollable and unpredictable, and they’re fuckin terrified.”

Now it was Ryan’s turn to grin. He ruffled ray’s hair (to Ray’s dismay).

“Yeah, pretty obvious right? But it’s that, and it’s also so that my parents don’t find out I’m the Vagabond.”

The City feared the Vagabond and the rumors about him that made it to public eye were tame compared to the ones told amongst rising and established crews. Ray knew this, and he knew the extent of the truth behind those rumors. He was 15, he’d been on enough two-man jobs with Ryan that he knew if anyone on the right side of the law found out who the Vagabond was then Ryan would be in jail in hours, or worse, dead by a cop’s pistol; he was quickly becoming an under-the-table shoot on sight order.

Ray nodded his head a little.

“So are they suspicious?”

“They know. My dad found some bloody clothes and my mom found the facepaint in the sink. Neither found any of the weapons I had at home, but they got suspicious and started watching me. This morning they confronted me; I guess the gig could only last so long. They had me backed into the metaphorical corner, it’s not like I’m about to confess to my mother that I’m killing for cash, so I ran. My dad followed me down the street and saw me on the bike in most my gear, he’d looked like he’d seen a ghost.”

They were both silent for a moment, Ryan in melancholy confusion and Ray absorbing what he’d heard.

Ray whistled, long and descending “Man Rye, that blows.” He pulled a joint from his pocket and lit it up.

“You know that’ll kill you right?” They both grinned and laughed. In their line of work it wasn’t the smoke that would kill them one day.

“Live fast die young.” Ray took a drag and passed the joint. “YOLO right?” Ryan laughed and followed suit, inhaling slightly less smoke then his brother. Ray continued, “ ‘s like one of those movies, where someone lives a double life and their identity is revealed, so they have to fake their death. Except here the crew isn’t what you need to avoid to lead a normal life, it’s the average family you need to evade to lead a life of crime.” 

They laughed at the irony, but then Ryan was silent for a second, and Ray was in tune with Ryan enough to read him.

“Dude no–”

“It would work though, and– and I need your help– Geoff and Jack can’t know, not ‘till after it happens.” Ryan was looking down now, the words barely passing his lips correctly as his mind worked through possibilities.

Ray opened his mouth to protest, but instead lowered his head and sighed in mock resignation, his grin betraying his amusement.

“What do you need?”

“You know that two-man hit we were contracted for Thursday?”

“Yea?”

“Well I’ve got a better idea for body disposal than the river bed.”

. . .

The explosion hadn’t been large, but it had been hot and fiery. 

The radio crackled.

“The driver’s body had been burned beyond recognition, so the police relied on whatever had been left of the driver’s personal items to identify the body. Hours after the crash that ended in a six-car pile up and one death, the body of the lone victim had been identified as Ryan Haywood, 21-year-old college junior, majoring in computer sciences and minoring in theater. Authorities have yet to identify or find the owner of the car he was driving, as Ryan Haywood’s parents have confirmed that he did not own a car, nor did he have a license. Authorities have also failed to identify the source of the explosion within the vehicle, but our sources say speculation is pointing to low grade homemade explosives, typical of the smaller gangs in the city.”

Ryan and Ray watched the madness from atop a nearby building. One of Michael’s ignition bombs and a shit load of gasoline in the cab of the car had ensured the body would be charred beyond recognition. A few false promises of life and a hell of a lot of duct tape had ensured the target would drive the car to the desired location. The fire resistant glove box had done the rest of the work by protecting Ryan’s student ID, personal phone, and wallet.

The news channel trickled through the speakers of an old handheld radio, “What the Honor Roll student was doing that got him killed however, the world may never know. Now, on to the weather for the week…”

“Never thought I’d get to listen to the report of my own death,” Ryan said, clicking the radio off.

“Yeah, touché Mr. High Honor Roll” the grin on Ray’s face was nothing short of shit eating.

Ryan groaned, “Oh God damn– really? All this and you’re gonna tease me about having good grades?”

“Oh absolutely”

Ryan’s second groan was only met with laughter.

. . .

“I can’t fuckin believe you Ryan! The job was to eliminate your target, not put him in a bomb on wheels and drive him into a highway median to fake your own death!” Ryan covered his ears weakly against Geoff’s yelling. Him and Ray had come home and just started to relax when Geoff’s yells and the TV could be heard from his office.

Now Geoff was waving his arms wildly at the news on the living room TV while trying to figure out exactly what the fuck his boys had been thinking.

As the boys were lectured on how this could come back to bite all of them in the ass someday, Jack watched on from the kitchen. Sure, the stunt had been a little excessive, and would definitely attract attention, but, she had to admit, it had worked. Ryan Haywood was officially dead, and a dead man couldn’t be traced and could barely be tracked. She sipped her drink and smiled as Ray cracked a joke that had Geoff reeling, because maybe faking your own death might be a little extreme, and going out in a fiery explosion was a little too suspicious for a normal college student, but they had pulled it off without a hitch, and on anything other than a 6 man heist, what else should she expect from her boys? She and Geoff had raised them, after all.


End file.
